by Kerri Ann
Wow. He called me by my full name. It actually disappoints me that he did. Now that I hear it, it sounds wrong.
“What if I wouldn’t have said or did anything? What if I’d promised—”
“You couldn’t have promised that. That’s why he took you. And I’m—”
With a hand up, I halt him before he apologizes. “Let’s not rehash the warehouse. I don’t want to talk about it.” I don’t want to talk about it ever again. “Tell me then, why are you and Death getting along? ’Cause I don’t see how that happens, especially after you held his sister.”
Dragging my fingers through my hair and plying it into a braid, I lay it across my shoulder. I didn’t have a chance to grab a wrap or elastic, and as we drove it was tangling around me. Now as we’re talking about my captivity, I feel strangled by it. I need it off me. “Why did you bring me here?” I ask.
Scrunching up his brows, he asks, “What do you mean?”
“Why here? Why not take me back to the Horsemen clubhouse, or my house? You could’ve gotten me out of your life. Why here, Busta?”
“Lucius,” he growls again. “You’re here because I can’t drive to Death’s clubhouse with a Bows rocker.” He grasps his cut and tugs it. “I’d be shot coming around the curb. And Obi, I can’t leave you in the hopes that all goes well. I won’t take you to your house—”
“Condo,” I correct.
“Condo then. Excuse me, Princess. I won’t take you to your tower.” Stepping around the counter, moving so close that his body is now touching mine, I feel the heat, the power that courses through him. I see the faint scars that peek out from under his beard, and the dark freckles that until you’re really up close, you don’t see in his dark skin. I don’t want to say that I haven’t been attracted to him, because I have been from the start.
Lucius is the wrong man to be attracted to.
With him so close, I have an urgent need to escape before I do something stupid. “Which way is the bathroom?” I ask, standing quickly from my stool.
“On the right.” He points down the hall.
Rushing inside and closing the door, I grab a towel and wet it. Patting my face, I try to calm my already tortured thoughts and buzzing body from the attraction I have to him. I consider the consequences. Not because he’s a biker, and not because he’s a very large man that scares me. Nope. None of that. He’s dangerous because I could fall for him. He’s the type of man I’m attracted to whether I’ll admit it or not. I want the strong, silent, resilient, caring, dependable, and would kill on sight if I was harmed kind of man. He’s my kind of dangerous.
It’s like Beauty and the Beast. He’s the Beast. He’s broken, tortured, and dangerous enough to scare me away, but not enough to stop me from seeing there’s room for redemption. I was the captive, just like Belle.
And now I’m in his castle. Now I’m held against my will.
How do I get out of this? The answer: I can’t. I’m stuck wanting him, needing to know more, to find out if the man I think that’s beneath is.
I can’t shake off the smell of him, the nearness, the desperate need to feel those lips pressed to mine. Pulling in a deep, sharp breath, harsh enough it stings, I head back out. It could be the biggest mistake of my life, but the driving need is too hard to resist.
Chapter Eight
Oubliette
I have to ask the burning question sticking in my head, the one kicker that could ruin that need to feel his lips.
Stepping in, arms crossed, I ask, “Tell me one thing, and I need complete honesty.” My voice still sounds so crackly. The words stick and break. The compression from Nock hopefully hasn’t caused long-term damage. It’s still uncomfortable. But this question is so important, I push past the pain.
“Shoot.”
“Did you put me in the cage to teach me a lesson?”
His silence tells the truth. Stepping close, coming within my space, Lucius growls out, “For only a second. Maybe two, Oubliette.”
I stand still, shocked.
Grasping his drink and offering me mine, I take the cup. “Nock’s arrival sealed my incarceration. Great.”
“Yeah, it did.”
The tension as we stand within each other’s space is palpable.
Reaching for my hand, the one holding the cup, Lucius brings me close. We’re separated only by our clothing. “That place is a nightmare.”
Laughing lightly, pulling my drink to my lips, I mumble, “I can’t disagree.”
“You don’t get it. I swore to the club I’d never step foot in that place. Calling me in to look after you, they knew...they knew it was the last place I wanted to be.” He sounds apologetic.
I almost believe him.
With only mere inches separating us, and my glass empty, I’m fearful. I’m anticipating the contact. It’s been a long time coming. At least I’ve dreamt it.
In my own defense, I was delirious from a lack of oxygen. I’d had an attempt on my life.
That was only a few days ago.
This is so wrong. So, so wrong.
I need to stop all thoughts of him, which is frustratingly difficult with the smell, look, and need to taste him. I’m warring with my own libido.
“Obi,” he sighs. He’s trying his own resolve. He’s calling me by my nickname, hoping it will deter me and remind me that I should hate him, despise him—see him as the enemy. I don’t, though. I only see the broken, the damaged, the redeemable.
Placing a finger on his soft lips, I trace them. They’re supple, full, and they’re bitable. Exactly as I thought. His breath is relaxed as I smooth my finger along the seam. The tough exterior of this hardened biker falls away as he accepts my touch.
“Obi...” He turns his eyes away from me.
Bringing his sights back my way, I whisper, “Lucius. Don’t stop me.”
Wrapping a hand in his hair, tugging on him to give me what I want, I feel him denying our attraction. It’s been there from the beginning, and I won’t ignore it any longer. The pain in my core as I consider him, the ache in my heart as I see what he’s capable of—I want it all. His torture, his solitude.
I want to see all of him.
Leaning forward, gliding my tongue across his lips, I notice the tension dissipate as his own reaches out to caress mine. Wrestling his tongue against mine, finally he gives me what I ask for—his all. As our heavy breaths combine, he tangles a hand in my braid and holds it tight. I wrap a free arm around his chest—or at least as far as I can. As I push my body tight to his, he groans within my mouth. I love it.
Tugging my braid tighter, pulling my head back slightly, our mouths come apart. “Fuck. The shit I’ve thought about doing to you, Obi.”
“It isn’t far off of what I hope for I’ll bet,” I reply with a smile.
“Don’t say that.” Releasing the braid, letting it fall, he steps back an inch. “Don’t ask for something you don’t know the outcome to.”
I grasp his cut and pull him close. “I didn’t have an expectation, but I do hope for something close to the dream.”
He narrows his eyes. “And that would be?”
“That you’re not a dream.” My voice sounds pleading and greedy—I know it does, but my head knows what it wants. Reaching down between us, feeling the engorged cock that strains against his jeans, I actually have a sudden sense of fear. It’s more than I expected.
He gives me a wicked grin. “More man than you’ve had?” Laying his hand on mine, he tightens his grip, forcing me to feel the full width.
“Lucius.”
Saying his name garners a bigger smile. “I like the sound of my name on your lips. I think I’d like it screamed out loud better.” Dragging his hands under my ass, he tips me toward him, resting me aloft his waist. Pressing his mouth tight to mine, his tongue is commanding and hungry. Holding me tight to his body, we traverse down the hall. Hitting the edge of a doorframe, bounding into the space, he lays me on the end of the bed. “I’m gonna make you scream so mu
ch, your voice will be hoarse.”
Looking down at my bandage, his eyes widen and he curses. Rising off the bed, Lucius proceeds to walk out of the room, but pauses in the doorway. “Get some rest, Oubliette.”
Shutting the door and walking away, I hear his boots clack down the hall. I’m so surprised by his turnabout that I’m speechless as he leaves.
What the fuck was that?
Chapter Nine
Busta
I’m an asshole.
I’m an epic asshole of shit-stick proportions.
My mind is so sexually clouded with the prospect of having Oubliette under me that I’d so easily forgotten what she’s been through, what she’s endured.
She is strong.
Looking down on her, reminding myself that she’d gone through more than most, I think anyone other than her would’ve crashed and burned, broken into pieces and asked for the wreckage to be spread to the four corners of the Earth.
Not her, though.
I’d almost forgotten.
Because my dick said so.
Because she said so.
Her body called to me. I knew it was wrong. Not because she’s hurt, but because she’s protected by the Horsemen—by Death and his boys. I gave him my word she’d be protected.
That means from me.
That means even from herself.
She needs to stay far away from me. Her sweetness can’t be tainted by me and my past failures. I’d failed my family. I swear I won’t fail her.
Tucking my aching cock to the side, I consider having a shower to rub it out to release the tension. It’s the last thing I want, but it’s probably for the best. Walking out to the kitchen for another whiskey, I pour glass after glass, sucking back on the fiery taste until my senses dull, reveling in the solitude.
Ending at the fifth glassful, I place it in the dishwasher and work at keeping my wits about me. I won’t be able to protect a container of strawberries from a butterfly if I’m drunk.
She’s too important to lose.
I blame myself for everything that happened while she was in my care at the warehouse. I blame myself for not stopping Nock. And yeah, I blame myself for Nock’s death. I blame myself for letting him taunt her, and for laughing it off too. I thought, ‘What harm could come of leaving her in there?’ I was so fucking wrong.
Touching her now would be wrong.
Under no circumstances will she change my mind.
Oubliette and I will never get together.
Chapter Ten
Oubliette
I’m destined to fight in this war. Flopping on the bed, wanton and in need, I’m nothing more than a clustered ball of lust. Because of him. No, it’s because of me. He wants what I want, I know it, but being reminded of my damaged throat and the pain that Nock put me through, he decided it was best to leave me wanting.
Well, fuck him!
Screw this!
I’ll leave him in need.
Rising off the bed, tearing down the flimsy shorts and tossing them across the room, I pull the bedding back. The down cover is strewn on the floor haphazardly, and the soft cotton sheets beckon me.
Walking to the door and pulling it back open, I make sure it’s wide enough for him to hear, and see, what he’s missing.
Lying back on the bed, I imagine his mouth trailing down my skin. My body instantly reacts as I touch the areas I know causes the deepest tingles. Tweaking a nipple here, laying light touches across my hip bones, I pad across my skin to my core. Splaying my legs slightly, thumbing the skin to part, I toy with my body. I don’t do it quietly either. It still aches to hum and moan, but I enjoy every ounce of what I know feels amazing. What I know he’ll hear as I bring myself to release.
As I feel my bud rising, I taunt myself more and more. I don’t want it to end easily, and I don’t want it over too quickly. I want him to want it. To feel it.
Enraptured in my own care, I don’t notice him until he arrives and stands by the door. Looking to him will give away the ruse, so I turn away from him and look to the window. I know he’s there, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to break.
Stroking faster, I feel as my excitement crests. I won’t last much longer, but that’s fine. He’s here now. “Lucius, mmm...” Calling his name, I wiggle on the bed. “Oh my God, that’s it. It’s wonderful right there.” Accentuating my verbalization of excitement, I act it up a tad because I’m not letting up until he breaks.
“Suck it, please. Please make the sting go away.” Writhing on the bed, coming near my end, I’m pushing myself to the edge of despair. Waiting for him to crack, I hear the door to the room slam against the wall.
“Fuck,” is all he says before shoving my hands out of the way to finish what I’d started. On his knees, dragging me to the edge of the bed, his mouth is perfection as it dances across the surface. Pulling the end of my need from me, I yell out in earnest.
The ache deepens until I explode with a painful, throaty growl, “Lucius!”
I scream dark and deep. It hurts, but it’s more than amazing at the same time. It’s everything I could’ve expected. His large hands holding my body down as I raise my hips toward him. His mouth covering me and plying everything from me—every last drop of my demise. That’s when I know I’m well and fucked. I’ve given everything to Lucius and I can’t go back.
I need all of him. Every piece of him.
The Four Horsemen be damned. The Broken Bows too.
When Lucius tosses his cut to the discarded duvet, his tee and jeans follow suit shortly after. Through my post release bliss, I vaguely see him gather a condom from a bedside table.
“You wanted me. You taunted me for what you want. If you scream and hurt yourself further in the process, know that I’m stopping, Obi.”
“I’ll be quiet.”
Creeping up the bed, stalking until he reaches where I lie, he covers my body with his. Kissing me deeply, I taste myself on him. I’ve never had that before, and in a way, it drives me to want more. “Obi, I’ll be as gentle as I can, but I’m not a gentleman.” As his dark eyes pierce into mine, I know that he can’t deny his need.
Pulling his bearded chin, kissing his lips again, I smile. “I’m not a fragile flower, Lucius.”
‘No, you’re not.” He enters me. He’s so big that my body rebels.
Groaning, he pushes within. “Jesus, fuck!”
“I agree.” I’ve never been a talker during sex, but Lucius makes me want to be. Though I’ve promised to be quiet, I have the distinct feeling I’ll break that promise quickly.
Rising to meet his hips, I feel when he’s fully inside. It’s painful, but in a beautiful way. Rising and lowering with his strokes, I love the feel. The firm tightening of my muscles as they contract toward another release is perfection. I won’t last long at this rate, but I don’t care.
He pulls my body back. “I’m going to come if you squeeze like that, Obi,” he grinds out. Lifting my body off the bed, rising with a strength I knew he possessed, he holds my body tight to his. Standing, resting me against the wall, he pumps his hips upward. With my legs wrapped around him, he pounds into me for all he’s worth.
I try to hold it in, but it’s so hard. I make tiny noises, holding in the majority of them because I swore I would. My breathing becomes raspy and short.
Rather loudly, I shout, “More! I want more!”
Bowing my back off the wall, soaking up his powerful strokes, I come again. This time it’s so strong, I feel every bone in my body vibrate from the aftershocks. Lucius doesn’t stop, though. Continuing even as every muscle of mine tightens to a point of pushing him out, he holds my body hostage. I feel as if I’ve been ran down by a Mack truck.
Every inch screams.
Every nerve sings its joy.
Every one of the tiny neurons in my mind say yes, yes, yes! Encore! But I don’t think I could take another moment of it...yet.
A twenty-minute recoup could be necessary.
He kisses my forehead
. “Wow,” is all he says as he backs my body off the wall. Taking me to the bed, splaying me out sweetly, I howl at the lack of fullness within me. That gains me a laugh. A real laugh. Something I wasn’t sure he was capable of.
“I’ll be right back.” Rising from the bed he heads to a bathroom, and returns a few moments later with a fresh towel. Then going to his closet, he pulls out a shirt, a pair of boxers and a sweater. “Here. The shower’s finicky, and the soap smells like a man. But at least you’ll feel refreshed.” He turns to gather his things from the floor. “I’ll go make us something to eat while you do.”
Leaving me with a smile, Lucius walks away.
Tossing my head back, my exhausted body reminds me of how that felt. Everything is noticing a tenderness—but in a good way.
Smirking, I take off for the shower.
Chapter Eleven
Busta
I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The little minx had left the door open on purpose, setting me up for failure. There was no way of winning that game. As soon as I saw her fingers pulling back those sweet lips, I was crushed. Out of a stupid loyalty to the clubs I was leaving her alone, but fuck them.
She’s a grown woman and I’m a grown ass man. I was taking what she was offering.
And when I fucked her, I had no way to return from that. I’d laughed at the guys back at the club when they were so dick whipped they couldn’t even piss without asking—all because of a woman’s cunt. I had no value in that. But the payoff of her and what she did, I’d gamble my ass on a whip. And carnally sinking myself between her legs? I’ve never done that with the whores. They’re too diseased to consider it. Obi tastes like a sweet peach, and I’ll for sure do that again.